


shall i stay?

by brandflakeeee



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, will add more tags as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-02-09 13:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12888660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandflakeeee/pseuds/brandflakeeee
Summary: History can be rewritten and with it, the future can be bright.Alternatively, the AU in which Helen is engaged to Nikola instead.





	1. times like these

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, this originally was a story I posted a very long time ago on ff.net. It got some lovely reviews, and seeing as I've progressed as a writer since then I figured I'd give it the rework it deserves here on Ao3. Bear with me because this is my first foray back into fanfiction in a while. I'm going to try and keep the chapters in order timeline wise, and explore both the development of their relationship and the effect it would put on the show in present time. So. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, title is from 'Can't Help Falling in Love With You'.

“Do you have any idea how late we are?”

“I’m not a pocket watch, but I can estimate _very_?”

The scowl she shot him doesn’t wither even with that blasted smirk plastered across his face. Her lantern flickered, casting lengthening shadows across the trees around them. The bottom of her skirts are muddied from their trek, and despite his best efforts, Nikola Tesla is _dirty_ and it makes his soul practically cringe.

“We’d be on time if you would have listened to my directions and taken a left fifteen minutes ago.” He continues, and Helen Magnus doesn’t dignify a response to him; she merely presses ever onward, stepping over a fallen log. At least, however, she takes his hand for him to assist her over it.

Neither of them had been prepared for the sudden jaunt into the forests that surrounded the estate, so they’re dressed for a party, not an adventure. An absolute mess they both look, trudging through the trees like simple-folk with Helen’s lamp the only guiding light. It had been her insistence – a very strange report about a creature and suddenly she’d been ready to run away that morning after it, with Nikola tagging along merely as added protection (and with the knowledge that her father would absolutely murder him should any harm come to his beloved daughter).

“This is the path back.” She murmured, breaking the silence again. There’s frustration in her tone, and if she’s honest she isn’t sure if she’s trying to convince him, or herself that they’re on the right path. The oil in the lamp is running low, and soon they’ll be wandering aimlessly in the dark – even with his improved vision, she isn’t certain they’ll make it out before the sun comes up.

“I’m just following your lead, dearest.”

“You _could_ at least _try_ to help, Nikola.”

“How? All your British forests look the same. Dreary, wet, and cold. Just as the weather.” He sniffedvalmost indignantly, tugging sharply at his lapels as if to smooth some invisible wrinkles. She’s struck with the sudden thought of grabbing a handful of mud and smearing it across his front; she tucks that particular idea in the back of her mind in favor of speeding up her steps. The sooner they get out of the chill, the better. Her shoes were waterlogged, and after this unplanned adventure she wants nothing more than a cup of tea and a roaring fire.

“As if you feel the cold.” She retorted after a moment. “And you’re from Serbia, it’s all snow.”

“As stimulating as conversations in weather are, I’d suggest we take a right just up here at this clearing.”

“Are you certain?”

“Are you so distrusting that you underestimate my want to get out of this bloody forest just as much as you do, dear Helen?” Nikola shot her a furtive look, one that she returned, but she does heed his direction this time and veers off right as the almost overgrown path they’re on seems to split. Exhaustion has long since settled into her very bones – the creature they’d been after had evaded her even after all their trouble trying to follow reports and tracking it, which was grating on her nerves the longer they walked. They’d chased it too far into the woods until it had lost them easily amongst the darkening trees and winding forest paths. Another day, then, as soon as she’d properly prepared for chasing such an abnormal through the forest --- if they ever made it back.

The ground gave away suddenly and she grabbed onto Nikola to keep herself from face-planting in the mud. He held steady to her arm as she regained footing, cursing quietly under her breath.

“My, such language.” Nikola teased, and Helen huffed.

“I’m tired of going in circles.” She snapped, harder than she meant. He straightened, brushing off the comment seemingly without offense as he released her to continue their trek. The trees were starting to separate, which meant the edge of the forest was likely close. At the very least, Helen hoped. That warm fire and cup of tea was sounding better and better.

The trees began to thin, and Helen thanked whatever Gods listening that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Not that trudging about the forest with Nikola wasn’t her _favourite_ task, his banter could only be taken for so long before one had the urge to clamp his mouth shut.

“I am going to take the longest bath.” She said suddenly, passing off the lantern to Nikola as she fisted her hands into her skirts – a moot point as they were already ruined, but habit said otherwise.

“I could join you, if you’d like.”

Her clever retort died on her lips as an errant root caught her foot and she tripped, none too gracefully into the dirt and mud. Winded, Helen stared in shock at the sudden incident, and it took her a moment to realize Nikola had bent over her with a sudden worry across his features. Wheezing, Helen cursed her own inability to catch herself and cursed the tree, it’s root, and the forest. And the ground, for good measure.

“I’m going to burn this dress. And these shoes.” She declared, and Nikola’s features softened with the knowledge that with such fierce fashion commentary, she was more than fine. Scowling faintly, Helen accepted his offered hand to help her to her feet. What a nightmare it was turning out to be, the whole venture. She was half inclined to give up their pursuit of the creature with how utterly off-putting the entire day had been. Not one to give up, however, she vowed to at least be _far_ more prepared when they adventured next.

By wearing trousers, for one. Nigel was certainly to have an extra pair lying about; they were nearly the same height.

“We’ll have to sneak in the back door, you realize.” Nikola spoke up again as they reached the treeline, still hovering near her arm to catch her should she take another fall. She could see the estate house up ahead past the gardens, gently illuminated and looking like a beacon of hope to her weary self. Helen steeled herself with the knowledge that there was a warm bath closer on the horizon. She took off at a quicker pace – a near run, really – with Nikola close behind. The path through the gardens was well worn, well known, and she traced through the lanterns with a dizzying glee.

By the time the pair reached the back servants’ door, she was breathless with laughter.

“I think you’ve finally gone mad, dear Helen.” Nikola remarked, and her response was a dazzling grin.

“That would imply I wasn’t already.” She challenged wickedly. “Though it’s certainly the pot calling the kettle black – you talk to pigeons.”

“I absolutely do not.”

“I saw you! Just the other morning!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps you have gone mad, you infuriating woman.”

Her response dies on her tongue as the back door flings open, and light spills out onto the pair of them. Helen looks slightly mortified to see James Watson staring at the two of him, clearing his throat as he eyes their dirtied appearance.

“Don’t ask.” Nikola says flatly, and Helen pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It wasn’t anything improper by any means, James.” Helen adds, before the man can even open his mouth. His look is merely enough; she’s quick to defend them. “I left a note – surely you found it?”

“I did, and you’re lucky I spotted you trudging up the path from the window.” He remarks. “You both look like utter hell.”

“I bloody feel like it.” Helen scowls, and brushes past James. She’s already disappearing up the servant’s staircase, likely to her rooms. Before Nikola has a chance to follow, James grabs his elbow and steers him through another door and into the kitchen, up another set of stairs.

“ _You’re_ lucky I spotted you, and not her father.” James says after a moment and Nikola huffs.

“You say that as if implying something.”

“You know very well what I mean, Nikola.” In his tone is a warning, a dangerous one, and Nikola knows that tone well enough not to argue. Not now, at least. He merely gives a curt nod, and as they step into Nikola’s room he starts to shed his outer coat. He’s eager to get away from the mud as quickly as possible. James is already sorting through his meager wardrobe for a cleaner one.

“If it helps, we were trying to find that abnormal Nigel kept digging up information about.” Nikola steers the conversation into a far more pleasant topic, unknotting his cravat. “A complete waste of time, really.”

“I wouldn’t say so. There’s a couple downstairs who insists they saw something quite similar to those reports cross their path on the way here. I’d say you and Helen frightened it, if anything. It might do best to come at it from all sides, the lot of us.” James mused, finding a suitable coat and matching vest. Handing both over to Nikola, he turned to find a set of trousers that weren’t waterlogged and muddied.

“Oh, right. We must be very late.”

“ _Very_. I think Gregory was on the verge of assuming you’d eloped together.”

“As if I haven’t offered.”

“Nikola.” James warned, and Nikola gave a crooked grin as he straightened himself.

“Are you two quite finished?”

The pair look up, caught, as Helen peers through the cracked doorway. She looked slightly refreshed, her hair piled up and wearing a crimson evening gown that was free from any mention of dirt. Nikola said nothing for a long moment, and James merely offered his warmest smile.

“Nearly. He’s being quite the child. Button your jacket, Nikola.”

“Yes, _father_.” Nikola muttered, his fingers moving of their own accord; his gaze was entirely on Helen, drinking in her rather remarkable dress. He glanced up to her face and met her gaze – if he wasn’t mistaken, her cheeks were _slightly_ red. 

“You look lovely.” He offered, and her smile could have melted him where he stood. “Though I haven’t the faintest idea how you changed so quickly.”

“A lady has her ways, Nikola.” She grinned, offering her hand. James took that particular moment to excuse himself back downstairs, and Nikola took the offered hand. He raised it to his lip and brushed a kiss to the back of her knuckles, grinning when the tint to her cheeks returned. He still wasn't certain what he'd done to earn the love of Helen Magnus, but he thanked whatever deity was listening for it every day. 

“Shall we?” He adjusted his blazer, offering now his arm. Helen wrapped her arm in his, and the pair began the task of descending the stairs. Music drifted in between the voices that could be heard; they grew louder as they stepped down into the foyer and rounded the corner.

“There you are, Helen! And Nikola! We thought you’d quite gotten lost!” Her aunt had spotted them first, and her words drew the attention of the other guests nearby, who offered bright grins and warm exchanges – they were suddenly overwhelmed by the lot of them, and Helen only tightened her arm against Nikola’s, sparing him a soft look whenever possible. The look aunt Adelaide gave indicated she thought they'd snuck away for something indecent, and after a polite but curt response Helen steered them away to better conversationalists.

“Have you set a date yet?” Another guest, a distant cousin of Gregory’s, had asked. Helen laughed, all smiles and warmth despite the fact she’d spent the better part of the day hiking through the forest.

“We’ve only just gotten engaged, Edward. I should think we have plenty of time.” Fall, Nikola had wanted. Helen had agreed, and that was as far as they'd gotten on the conversation because their work with the others had distracted them. In fact, they were due to return to Oxford the following morning with James, John, and Nigel, the latter of whom had said with some amount of secrecy that he had found something astounding and they needed to see it right away. She felt like it was Christmas Eve and she was a child, waiting to rip into a gift.

She chose that moment to glance up, and caught the gaze of her father by the fireplace. He lifted a brow and she frowned for a moment, until he motioned quite discreetly to her hair. Reaching up casually, Helen felt a bit of hardened mud that she’d missed when furiously trying to brush it out. Her eyes widened, and immediately she tried to tuck it beneath the other curls where it wouldn’t be seen.

Gregory, bless her father, did not ask and she did not tell. She'd face him tomorrow, and tell him the stories of the creature in the woods. Perhaps he'd lend a hand then, and they'd  _finally_ have something to show for all their muddied hikes. 

“Still up for that bath?” Nikola murmured close to her ear, when they’d found a quiet place among the gathering to sit and reflect on the day. She hadn’t wanted this in the first place, the small party, but Nikola had insisted that perhaps it would be best, as her family already had less than ideal thoughts on their engagement. She could see their looks, their questioning eyes, but she smiled all the more brighter and pressed herself tighter against his side. Nikola was strange and foreign and encouraged her completely in her studies at Oxford, which certain relatives had argued against since Gregory had persuaded them to let her in. To her, it was all the more reason to adore Nikola. Insufferable as he was. 

“Yes. And the tea. Still remember how I take it?”

“You’ve scolded me enough times for getting it wrong that I could do it in my sleep, dear.” He quipped, and Helen stifled a laugh.

“Very well, then. As long as you promise to keep those hands to yourself.”

“And ruin your virtue, Ms. Magnus? I’m appalled to be accused to such.” His charming grin said otherwise, however, and she reached up a hand to pat his cheek. He caught it with his free hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t.” She added. “Half eleven, then? And bring that book you were reading the other day. I should like you to continue.”

“Does my lady want me to take down a list of her demands?”

“Don’t push it, Nikola.”


	2. a dangerous game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely responses! This chapter is a bit of a set-up for the next one, so forgive me for the lack of Teslen. I will be making up for it, I promise!

“You’re making it quite difficult to work, Nikola.” Helen spoke suddenly, not lifting her head from where she’d bent over the microscope some minutes ago. She switched the slides without missing a beat. Nikola, who had been hovering over her shoulder curiously, gave a faint grin she could only catch out of the corner of her eye.

“Call me impatient, but I’d rather like to see what you’ve been able to do.”

“You, and the others.” Helen spared him a glance then, then one to Nigel, James, and John working away at something on another table across the lab. There was an array of bottles spread out before her, all mostly shades of red with some variants in the hue. At the center of them was a rather dusty looking vial, it’s shade of liquid inside the deepest of them all.

Pure, untainted, vampire blood.

Oh, it had been a delightful morning when Nigel had brought it in, regaling them with the story of how it had come into his possession during a game of cards outside of Bristol by some traveling stranger. Helen had immediately brought her father into the discussion, who had confirmed it’s viability through comparing small test samples to his own notes on the secluded species. Even with the race extinct, it had been some miracle that the vial had survived and what’s more, that Helen had been able to study it at all. Gleaning ideas of it’s properties away from her tests, she’d been insistent that they would know more by using a live subject.

“I would feel better if you borrowed one of Worth’s rats.” He commented after a moment, and Helen straightened to regard him with another one of her looks.

“You won’t talk me out of it, Nikola.” She warned quietly. “We all agreed.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m not worried for your safety.”

“Which is precisely why I’ve been working so diligently on the serum. I won’t lie and say I’m one hundred percent confident, but I also won’t give up this opportunity. There’s always been tell about the abilities granted to ones of this species, and I’ve diluted it. It won’t turn us all into creatures of the night, I can at least assure you of that.” Helen replied evenly, resting her hands on the flat surface of the table to hide their trembling.

“And how do you know it won’t kill us?”

“Because I’ll be injecting it first. If I survive, we’ll proceed.”

Nikola growled, a low rumble in his chest. Helen reached out to rest a hand against his waistcoat, her other hand coming to brush briefly against his cheek in comfort.

“I’ll be fine.” She added, insisting.

“Your daughter won’t be home tonight, Dr. Magnus, she’s injected vampire blood and _died_ is not a conversation I’m willing to have, Helen.”

“I’m not a piece of glass, and am capable of my own decisions. I know the risks, I insisted, so I will be the first test. Besides, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She’d spent hours at the very lab bench she sat at now, studying how the blood reacted with samples of their own blood. The unique changes to the substance were strange, and while it certainly proved there was _something_ happening, she couldn’t be certain of what until the vampire blood had been introduced to a live subject.

Nikola fell silent, and she took the opportunity to carefully unbutton her jacket, peeling it away and draping it across the back of a nearby chair. Unbuttoning the cuffs of her blouse, she rolled up the sleeves to both, examining her arms for a moment for a viable vein to use. It was nearly dark – they’d agreed that perhaps it best to conduct the experiment when there would be less interruptions.

“I’m ready.” She announced, loudly, and the three huddled on the other side of the room ceased discussion. Nigel gave a lopsided grin, before dragging a chair to a part of the room away from the tables, in case anything should be knocked awry. John and James both looked bothered, but Helen was steadfast.

“Gentlemen, I insisted. I will go first. If something happens to me, I’ve made my instructions very clear.” Of course, she’d prepared for every possible outcoming including her death; as she mentioned it, she could see the muscle jumping in Nikola’s jaw.

“I still wish you would reconsider my offer, dear.” James murmured, and Helen returned only a kind smile.

“I’ll be fine.”

She certainly hoped she sounded confident enough about it.

Taking a seat, she took a breath to steady herself, to clear her mind. John was prepping the needle, drawing her instructed dosage into the syringe with steady hands. James stood beside her with a hand against her shoulder, Nigel not too many steps away as he finished locking the door. Nikola, however, had shed his own jacket and knelt beside her chair, wrapping his fingers in hers.

“Hold tight.” He murmured, and leaned up to kiss her forehead with such a stark gentleness that she was stunned for a moment. He smiled, as it must have shown on her face, but the smile was short lived. He was terrified, she could see it. That she might die, that something irreversible might happen.

She prayed it would not be the case.

John swept toward her, and she offered out the arm Nikola wasn’t holding to.

“If you please, John.”

John glanced from Helen to James, then to Nikola and to Nigel, before he took Helen’s offered arm and pressed the needle to her pale skin. Despite his hesitation, his hand was steady as the syringe hit it’s mark and the plunger was pushed.

There was nothing, and then Helen felt as if there were living fire beneath her veins.

She gasped sharply, unable to help it, as her body jerked in reaction to the injection. Her hand on Nikola’s tightened fiercely and John had taken up her other hand the moment he’d withdrew the syringe. Her blood was boiling, but her skin was ice. Everything at once invaded her senses, overwhelming her until she was already near tears. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find her voice as the serum raced through her system.

“Helen?” Nikola prompted, worry creasing his brow. The same look was reflected in the faces of the others and still Helen only tightened her grip and tried to catch her breath. It was dizzying and somewhat empowering all at once. An urge to be free, to run, to _soar_ gripped her so fiercely it took her off guard and without warning she stood, nearly dragging John and Nikola up with her. She hadn’t ever possessed that sort of strength, and the whole lot of them were staring as if she had three heads.

“Nikola.” She breathed, finally, before the fire beneath her veins flared and she bit her bottom lip so hard it drew blood. The taste of iron filled her mouth and the urge returned, though it was something quite different. There were not words to explain it.

“I – I cannot ---“ She tried, breathing coming faster. It was too overwhelming and for a moment, Helen thought her very heart might explode with how fast it beat against her ribs. Black wavered around the edges of her vision which was suddenly blindingly bright and without warning, she collapsed, John and Nikola both hurrying to catch her before she hit the floor.

Vivid dreams flooded her. Various images she couldn’t quite make out. Voices murmuring, among their words her name. Little else made it past the murky black of her unconscious fever. She still felt the fire, but it was dying, more and more the longer time went on. She as only vaguely aware of the passing of time, and the chill of ice pressed firmly to her skin.

When she woke, the beginnings of dawn were creeping through the window, casting long corridors of light across the floor of the lab. She was lying on the sofa shoved absentmindedly to one corner of the room, stripped of her clothing except her petticoats and small clothes. She didn’t have the thought to be embarrassed at who might see, as the moment she opened her eyes there was a face hovering above her own.

“Helen,” James breathed with some relief in his stressed tone. He was quiet, murmuring, as he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, to her cheek, to her neck.

“James.” Her voice was hoarse, and she struggled to recall exactly what had taken place. Glancing about the room she could see nothing amiss except Nigel passed out against the door to the room, John in the same fashion by the window. But where –

Her answer formed itself when she tried to move, and found there a weight to be on her legs. Nikola had wedged himself in a small nook of free space at the end of the sofa, her legs propped on her lap with his arm draped over them. He, too, was asleep.

“You collapsed, Helen.” James spoke with a frown, brows knitting together. Her attention wavered back to him and she lifted a hand to press to her head, an ache settling in her temple. “After the injection. We thought you were dead. You’ve been running such a high fever the past several hours I very nearly sent for your father.”

“I’m not dead, James. But I certainly feel like it.”

“You’ve been out all the night. We took shifts fetching ice to keep you cool. I promised I would wait for you to wake while they got some sleep. Your beloved quite refused, but I believe the worry tired him out.”

“There’s no change, then?” She asked, attention flickering from Nikola back to James’ face. He gave her a look, as if to say ‘you nearly died and you’re already asking after that?’. Helen persisted. “Not outwardly, at least?”

“You look very much like you, I’m afraid. Nothing of note now that the fever’s died down. Perhaps there aren’t any properties to be had by that blood. It only serves to clearly make you quite ill.” James shifted, and Helen tried to as best as she could with Nikola holding hostage of her legs. James helped her settle with a pillow behind her, and offered out a glass of water for her to sip at.

“We must try again.” Helen declared quietly, and James settled a long stare at her.

“No, _we_ must. I fear a second dose might very well kill you, Helen.”

“You all worry far too much to be pushing at these boundaries with me. What’s science without risk?”

There’s a betraying smile that works it’s way onto James’ face, but he says nothing else on the matter.

“You need to rest. Keep drinking. I’m going to see what I can scrounge up for breakfast, and then we’ll sort out what comes next.” He stood, groaning softly as he straightened; Helen realized he had probably been sitting there for quite some time. Deeming her seemingly fit for the time being, he crossed to the door and gently nudged Nigel, who grumbled something in his sleep but shifted enough for James to squeeze out of the room.

Helen prodded Nikola with her foot until he woke, bleary and confused for a moment until he seemed to recall the previous night’s events, and caught her gaze. Immediately he shifted from beneath her legs to kneel beside her, his hand repeating the same motions James’ had to her forehead, cheek, and neck to see if her fever had broken. She caught his hand gently with the one not clinging to the glass of water, and he used his other to brush errant curls away from her face.

“I’m sorry I frightened you.” She said quietly at last, and Nikola leaned over to press his forehead to hers with a gentle motion.

“I thought I’d lost you, Helen. Do not make me feel that way again.” He voice was still thick with sleep, his accent breaking through. She smiles softly, leaning into his touch.

“No promises. But I’ll try quite hard.”

“Coming from you, my dear, I shall take what I can get.”


	3. hopelessly devoted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gregory Magnus reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter dedicated to Gregory Magnus, Helen's father, and all around awesome Sanctuary character who certainly doesn't get enough love.

A mixture of rain and snow had begun falling just that morning, and by the end of the afternoon it had turned everything to slush and ice. A droll day, best spent by the fire and among the company of books.

Which is precisely how Gregory Magnus found his daughter.

Asleep, curled in the sofa of his study, an open book abandoned in her lap and the tea on the table long gone cold. He hadn’t heard her for hours, and now he understood why. The perfect image of her mother – some time ago he had come upon this very sight except Patricia had been seated where Helen was, pregnant, and dozing on his sofa. There was warmth, and a lingering sadness that took him for a moment at the thought of Helen’s mother.

How proud she would have been of their headstrong little girl. Well, perhaps not so little anymore – but that certainly didn’t stop him from crossing quietly to her and pulling the book from lack fingers. Marking her page, he set it on the table next to the tea tray and brushed an errand golden curl from her face. His world was Helen; her, and his work. The work she had so interestedly begun taking on – how _proud_ he is of her, enough to fill the entire house and more. She’s far better at it than he ever could have imagined, and far too clever for her own good. Then again, someone needed to keep that lot at Oxford in line.

There was a creak of the old wood in the doorway and he looked up from pulling a coverlet from the back of the sofa and across Helen to stave away the chill until he’d built the fire back up. He wasn’t surprised to see Nikola lingering, watching the interaction between them with silent eyes.

“Come in, then.” Gregory murmured, plucking a decanter of whiskey from his desk and pouring two glasses. The man seemed to hesitate in the doorway, but gave in and he pulled his gaze from Helen. He was cautious, quiet a church-mouse as he crossed the room and took the glass Gregory offered out to him. They retreated to the windows behind Gregory’s massive desk, where their quiet conversation wouldn’t wake Helen. They hadn’t spoken alone since Nikola had come to ask Gregory his permission to ask Helen to marry him. Gregory had told him quite simply that he hadn’t needed his permission; Helen was far too headstrong to need permission for anything as trivial as that (though Gregory had granted it all the same, quite surprised Nikola had even thought to ask).

“I think I owe you a thanks, Mr. Tesla.” Gregory spoke after a long stretch of silence between them. The younger man arched a brow, the mustache twitching. While their interactions together had been scarce, one was left wondering if Nikola was still _afraid_ of Dr. Magnus.

“I can’t imagine what for, sir.”

Gregory took a long sip of his whiskey, swirling it in the glass.

“Helen’s always been fiercely independent, even before she asked me for the favor to grant her admission into Oxford. A bit hesitant, but since meeting you I’ve seen her flourish. You granted her your friendship from the first day of meeting her, which is far more than she ever got with most of the other students. You supported her endeavors, and still do. It’s more than I could ask.”

Nikola hesitated, mulling over the words in his mind. He glanced once over to Helen’s sleeping form, before offering a response.

“You don’t need to thank me, doctor. She was my first friend; we shared a bond, her and I. Outcasts – though mine based solely on my heritage and hers for gender, but we bonded. I simply returned her kindness. I acted as any decent human being should – in my opinion, the lot of those at Oxford are all idiots for ever having doubted Helen. She’s brilliant.”

The ghost of a smile flickered across Gregory’s face. Nikola stared into his whiskey.

“I trust you’ll take care of her, Mr. Tesla. I’m afraid I can’t do it forever, and I’ll rest easier knowing she’s well looked after.”

“With respect, I should think she’s able to look after herself. I will, however, remind her to take a break from her work and other activities she seems to simply forget when engrossed in her work.” A pause. “And I would prefer it if you addressed me as Nikola.”

“Nikola, then.” Gregory conceded. “As long as she’s happy, I am. I think you can call me Gregory, as well.” He reached up, clapping a hand to Nikola’s shoulder. The pair shared a mile smile as Nikola gave a soft nod to his request, bringing the glass of whiskey to his lips to drain it.

“If you’ll forgive me, there are notes I need to get back to. Should I . . . ?” Nikola trailed off, gesturing to the sleeping Helen. Gregory shook his head.

“I’ll let her rest. She needs it, clearly.”

Nikola nodded, replacing the empty glass on the desk before heading for the door. He hesitated near Helen, bent to press a kiss to her temple and re-tuck the coverlet around her, before he left the room. Gregory waited a few moments, studying his daughter with a hidden look.

“You’ll give me a complex, father.” She murmured suddenly, shifting. Gregory chuckled softly, and Helen’s eyes snapped open.

“I take it you heard all of that, then?”

“Indeed. I should hope you weren’t saying it solely for my benefit.” Her voice was still thick with sleep as she struggled to right herself, blinking back exhaustion. Gregory moved to sit beside her, watching Helen stifle a yawn without much avail.

“Of course not. I meant every word.”

She paused, fingers toying with a frayed edge of the coverlet.

“I love him.” She admitted, quietly. “Fiercely. He was my first friend, my only for such a long time at Oxford. I’ve always cherished our relationship, our time together. I feel all the more inspired when he’s around. I’ve certainly never heard him say a cross thing about my studies, my involvement in your work, any of it. Nothing that wasn’t in jest, of course.” She smiled, faintly. Gregory reached for her hands in her lap, giving her fingers a soft squeeze with his own.

“I know. I’ve seen that look of yours before. Your mother wore it so very often.”

Her smile softened, and she leaned over to rest her head against his shoulder. A quiet moment passed between them, before Helen spoke in an even softer tone.

“I miss her.”

“I do, too. But she’d be proud of you, my girl. So very proud.” Gregory kissed the top of her mussed hair. “She’d be happy you found someone to adore you as much as I do. As much as she did.”

Helen fell quiet, and Gregory kept her hand wrapped in his own for a long minute afterward. In truth, he very much needed to tell her of his plans for a trip that would take him away from England for several months. An abnormal had surfaced and as the nearest so called expert upon them, he’d accepted a position on a small team to find the creature, and hopefully study it. He had been putting off telling her in the wake of her engagement, but now with the trip finalized it seemed all the more real.

“I’m going away.” It came out, suddenly, and not at all how he intended.

“Beg pardon?”

“There’s an expedition, for a creature in the African forests. Rare, even by typical standards. I’ve been asked to go.”

“Oh.” It was a quiet admission, and he saw her brows furrow together neatly. “For how long?”

“I’m not certain. It could be months.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “When?”

“As soon as they finish gathering funding. It could be as early as Christmas.” This time, he paused. “I know the wedding ---.”

“Will happen before then.” She neatly cut him off. “You know as well as I do that it need be nothing extravagant, and I won’t hear a word of having it after you’ve left. We’ll organize something small, and you’ll give me away properly. I’ll speak to Nikola as soon as you’ve set a date for your departure.” She looked at him, and the resolution in his face made any argument he’d been trying to brainstorm die then and there. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles fondly.

“I’d be honored, my girl. But don’t feel the need to rush on my account.”

“There isn’t a rush. I want you there.”

“Then I am happy to oblige.” He smiled warmly and she returned it. She knew he was as devoted to his work as much as he was devoted to her. She wouldn’t be willing to step in between that. Perhaps by the time he returned, they’d be settled, and Helen would be practicing medicine instead of simply studying. Perhaps he’d be a grandfather. That thought filled him with a pleasant warmth, interrupted only by Helen’s attempts at stifling a yawn.

“I think it’s time you rest.”

“I don’t have the energy to argue with that.” She offered with a tired smile, and as he stood he helped her to her feet. “As soon as you hear from your sponsors, you’ll tell me? And in the meantime, I can lend my hand to helping you prepare.”

“Of course.” Gregory smiled, and she returned the sentiment before gathering herself, and heading for the door. He watched as she disappeared through the doorway, before lifting his abandoned glass to his lips and polishing off the drink. Quiet voices in the hall told him that perhaps Nikola had been remiss in returning to his notes; he could hear their footsteps disappear together up the stairs.

Picking up the book Helen had left abandoned, she glanced at the cover and flipped to the page she’d been reading – it was one of his own works, a private collection, detailing some of the original abnormals he’d first come in contact with and learned about – a compilation, really.

_Sanguine vampirius,_ the chapter was devoted to. His lips twitched. Vampires. A race that had died out some centuries ago, their artifacts and written stories the only remainder of their lifetimes.

How strange, for her to be reading up on them. Perhaps it was simply a fancy, he decided, crossing the room to return the book to it’s proper shelf. He yawned, not bothering to stifle it. Time for bed himself, truly, as his earlier exhaustion came sweeping back into what felt like his very bones. Tomorrow was a new day and with it, would bring more work.

For now, he snuffed the gas lamps burning about the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trip being discussed is obviously the trip that Gregory disappears during which Helen believes him to have died, and all that jazz. Also, coming up in the next chapter will be Nikola's genetic reaction to the source blood and of course, plenty of Teslen to go along with it.


	4. run devil run

After her lack of reaction to the source blood, the others had taken it in turn. First James, and that had almost been another disappointment, but his enhanced intelligence had surfaced the day after – how _clever_ he was, and Helen was already trying to devise new problems for him to keep his mind occupied; he seemed unhappy when it wasn’t otherwise busy with a monumental task.

Nigel had been entirely unexpected, but somewhat fitting. Nearly moments after his injection and his entire form had gone invisible. She’d never heard of such a talent among the vampires of yore, so it was quite the shock when invisible Nigel had gone larking about the room until James pointed out it was useless because his clothes were still quite able to be seen. Cue him stripping to the nude and Helen had been red for the rest of the afternoon.

John had gone next, and Helen had noted the shift the next morning – mostly because he’d teleported straight into the corner of the library she’d been in and she’d nearly screamed in pure terror. Thankfully, no one else had been witness to the act and he had so easily shifted them to the lab. The sensation was remarkable, had made her hair stand on end.

Their experiments had gone far beyond her most expanded ideas, and she’d furiously been keeping notes on all of them and their reactions, their new abnormal abilities. Some part of her was somewhat jealous that they had all showed such remarkable traits and she was left behind. No invisibility, no hyper-intelligence, nothing. Not that she could tell – she’d spent three hours in the gardens just focusing inward (trying to, rather) in effort to make _something_ happen. Nothing had.

Then, there was Nikola. He’d barely been able to contain himself, earlier that evening when it had come his turn. There had been no immediate changes in his behavior, his looks, his abilities – Helen childishly coveted that perhaps he was too like her. She’d banished the thought immediately in favor of logging more notes in her journal, focusing on the task at hand.

How wrong she had been. How terribly, terribly wrong.

At his bedside (rather, couch-side in a terrible imitation of her own injection), she’d faithfully sat. He’d gone into a fever some hours prior and Helen wouldn’t forgive herself if he died. It’d been her idea, after all. Her own selfish scientific thoughts that had coerced her friends into such a state – something they’d all assured her was furthest from the case.

Grabbing the cloth from the bowl of water James had brought her, she mopped Nikola’s brow gently. His skin had gone deathly pale and cold, yet he still had a cold sheen of sweat with such fierceness that it’d nearly soaked through some parts of his clothing. She gently ran the edge of the cloth down his cheek, onto his neck, before dipping it back in the ice water and repeating the motion across the other side of his face. He hadn’t moved in hours. Worry ate away at her, and despite James’ and her own checking that he was alive, she feared he would not be for much longer.

“I’m not sure what else to do.” She admitted quietly, standing. Her legs gave an ache of protest as she stretched, bending to scoop up the bowl and retrieve a fresh cloth across the room. James gave her a sympathetic look, brows knitting together when he tore his gaze away from the sample beneath his microscope.

“I’m not certain there is much to do, my dear.” He murmured; he was very protective of both her and Nikola, and to some extend Nigel and John as well – both of whom had gone out to fetch food and refreshments for what was likely to be another late night spent locked in the lab, as Nikola’s condition was too worrisome to chance moving him.

“He’s _ill,_ James. I’ve done this to him.”

“Not so much as you think, Helen.” He warned, reaching out to brush a hand comfortingly on her shoulder as she wrung out the wet rag into the basin a few feet down. In his movement, his elbow knocked a glass beaker off the edge of the table and it hit the floor before either could catch it, shattering into shards. He made to pick it up and Helen waved him off, almost thankful for the distraction. If Nikola’s fever did not break soon, she’d lose her sanity.

But she held faith. He would pull through. Helen willed it with ever fiber in her being to be so. While certainly not the most innocent of their group, he’d been the one she’d been closest to beyond obvious reasons. The one who had very first taken her seriously in her studies, the one she’d spent so many mornings debating philosophy with whilst feeding the birds that dotted the grounds of Oxford.

Hissing faintly, Helen jerked her hand up from her attempts at gathering the glass and admiring the slice in her hand one stray shard had caused. Silently cursing herself and her inability to focus, she gathered what she could into her other hand and dumped it in the bin. Noticing her slight distress, James set about finding her a bandage and something to stem the blood flow.

The wind was suddenly knocked out of her as something slammed harshly into her side. Pinned against the wall with rough stones digging through her dress and into her spine, Helen gasped at the crushing force against her chest, the sharp claws digging into her skin around her wrist. Blinking, she noted for the first time it was not an ordinary force, but Nikola – looking more terrifying than she’d ever seen him.

Blue eyes were replaced with blown, black pupils that matched the sharp black nails jutting from his fingers and digging into her skin. Sharp teeth bared, he looked utterly feral in that moment, his attentions entirely on her bloodied hand. He brought it up between them and her muscles ached in protest at the unnatural angle. Without so much as warning, she felt his tongue run the length of her palm and startled, horrified at how _delighted_ he seemed as such. His darkened eyes trailed the length of her arm, his gaze tracing up to her face with that same delighted grin.

“Nikola --!”

Dazed as she was, Helen was brought back into reality by the noise of other voices; John and Nigel had returned, and were joining James in trying to pry the abnormal Nikola away from her. He hissed, and unnatural noise from such a man, and fended them off with the hand not clutching Helen’s wrist. He was still crushing her to the wall, winding her further as she tried to catch her breath, tried to fathom _why_ Nikola had gone entirely vampiric in his qualities.

“Nikola!” She demanded again, his attention. He relented, eying her sharply as his lips parted to reveal more of those dazzling sharp teeth. She would have recoiled, had she anywhere else to go. The moment lapse of his attention, however, was just the moment the others needed – James and Nigel both seized him under each arm to pry him away and off from Helen, before John’s hand came around her and suddenly they were somewhere decidedly not the lab.

Gasping for breath, Helen stumbled as John released her, but to her credit did not fall into the grass. They’d landed in a darkened courtyard some meters away from the lab building; she couldn’t see the window of their work room from here, and she likely thought it for the best. Gathering her wits about her, she straightened, digging her hand fiercely into the skirts of her dress to stem the blood still flowing from her palm.

“I don’t understand!” She demanded. “He took the same dosage as the rest of us!” She whirled on John. “You must take me back and let me help him – James and Nigel cannot hope to compete with his abilities!”

“I think not. You’re safest here, Helen.” John rumbled quietly, and she shoved him hard in the chest.

“He needs my attention and if you don’t want to help, I hope you’ll rest easy with James and Nigel ripped to shreds!”

“You’ll be killed, you madwoman! I’ll not lend a hand to your death!” He roared back, and true to form, she did not flinch. She fought hard against the urging rise to slap him across the face, but swallowed the vile thought before it could be made action.

“I’ll walk back myself!” She snapped, and took off across the open space. Expecting John to grab her again, she jerked her arm away the moment he tried.

“I will not _run_ when this is my doing, John Druitt.” She warned, voice wavering. Her hand was still stinging, she could still feel Nikola’s hands against her, claws digging through the fabric of her dress. She probably looked quite the sight. She thought little of it, and little of anything else other than attempting to help Nikola, and aid James and Nigel in sedating him perhaps until they could get a grip on his abilities, or at least bring him back to some rational thought.

John, to his credit, made no immediate effort to stop her again. Not until she was well across the yard did she hear the sound she’d come to associate ripple far behind her, and it did not reappear.

Left alone in the rapidly fading daylight, she threw open the door to the building and broke into a faster pace. She could not hear any sounds of an argument or a fight, though instincts were telling her it could be James and Nigel had already been _killed_. The thought only spurred her on in greater intensity, until she stumbled through the doorway to their room, now nearly ripped from it’s hinges. It creaked and groaned, but did not give way immediately until Helen was shoving all her weight against it.

In the few moments she’d been gone, the room had been practically overturned. James and Nigel were in the midst of it, breathing hard and looking no worse for wear physically, save for torn bits of clothing. Behind the door was what was formerly their chalkboard, in half and cluttering the space. More shattered glass littered the room, and their lab bench had emerged remarkably unbruised. The items upon it, however, were somewhat less unfortunate. She prayed the Source Blood samples were untouched, but there were other priorities on her mind, namely a vampire running about London --

“John’s taken him somewhere safer.” Nigel answered her un-voiced question, and while the rational part of her agreed this was a better solution, she stepped up to them and picked her way across shattered equipment.

“Take me to him.”

“It isn’t safe, Helen, you saw how he just was.” James spoke, brows knitting together. Helen loathed that look, and she felt nothing more than a petulant child without her toy. Nikola was her _patient_ , her charge, and she’d sworn an oath. Granted it had been in mind for human patients, but she’d long since been aiding her father and helping a vampire should be no problem. In her mind, at the very least. Besides, it was Nikola – he’d not hurt her. Of that she was absolutely certain.

“I’ll not have you lecturing me, James. I’ve aided you and Nigel and John, and Nikola needs me now. I’ll not abandoned him just because he’s sprouting a few sharper teeth and a thirst for my life blood.” She surprised herself how even she managed to sound, even if her own nerves felt shot and frayed. She dug her hands harder into her messed skirts to hide the trembling of them. Fear, worry, guilt – it ate away at her like a steady flow of water, eroding her more and more until she was certain nothing else would remain. Swallowing thickly, she stood her ground, eying them both each in turn.

“Give him a few hours to calm, at least.” James relented. “I managed to get a sedative into him that should take effect, and I’m sure John will have access to more with his decree. Once he’s in a better state, I’ll take you there myself.”

“And how do you know the sedative will work? If he’s a full vampire, James, his systems will burn the medicine off just as quickly as it’s introduced.”

“I used an elephant sized dose. As I said, John will have access to more, perhaps something stronger. I would rather have you in one piece, if you please. Nikola would never forgive himself if he caused you harm, or worse.”

There was a long, tense moment in which Helen wanted to argue, wanted to debate him until he caved and took her to Nikola so she could make things right.

“We should probably see about getting this picked up. I think I’ve got a bit acid over here and if it mixed with whatever you were working on, I’ll never hear the end of it.” Nigel voiced loudly, breaking the silence as he trudged defiantly between the pair. “C’mon, Helen. I’ll make us a nightcap after, and by then his Serbian highness will have mellowed out a touch. James, might have to borrow a shirt before we go out – bloody idiot tore this one nearly in half . . . .”

Quietly and somewhat distracted, Helen begrudgingly set to work.

It was some hours later when the other three relented enough to let her to him. John’s flat at the edges of the city was sparse (he rarely spent time there), but better enough so that Nikola wouldn’t destroy the place. Despite the earlier sedative he was well awake, shackled to a bedpost in John’s room. He eyed Helen from her place in the doorway, uncertain, until she crossed to sit on the edge of the bed. Her hands immediately went to his face, trying to ascertain if his fever had broke – Nikola tried in vain to shy away. With both hands shackled, it was difficult.

“Stop it, Nikola. Let me see to you.”

His eyes, returned to their normal state, regarded her with caution and worry.

“I’m fine.” He replied evenly. “You shouldn’t be here, Helen. I don’t know how long I can hold it at bay.” He swallowed, thickly. “I don’t --- the lab, I have fogged memories, did I . . . ?” He trailed off, uncertain, and Helen slid her sleeve of to show off the bandages around her hand, secured at her wrist.

“No. I did it to myself on a bit of glass. It . . . I think it triggered you, the . . . the smell, I daresay.” She hesitated, distracting herself by studying his hand; his nailbeds were angry and red from the claws that had appeared so easily, as if it had always been. His pallor was still quite questionable, but she was certain his new abilities would see to him not dying anytime soon. If at all.

Ever.

The thought struck her suddenly, and the lump in her throat returned. _Immortal_ creatures, vampires were. How cruel it would be, to spend her life with him, her ordinary, mundane life. Short life, a blink of an eye, if Nikola were to continue to live on eons ahead of her. It was . . . overwhelming, to say the least, and she tried to push her thoughts past it. His health was more important, he was her patient, and there was still some lingering tendrils of guilt that she had caused this, that she had not come sooner.

“You’re overthinking, Helen.” He remarked quietly and she met his gaze. She gave an apologetic smile and he returned the expression with one of his own.

“I’ve done this to you, Nikola. This whole experiment; it was a terrible idea and now look at what I’ve wrought.”

“You couldn’t have known.” The shackles clanked together; he wanted to embrace her, it was clear, but he was held back by the restraints.

“You’re pretending very well. We both know you could break those without a second thought.” Helen said factualy, and he grimaced.

“Because if it comes back, I don’t want to risk losing control. The pounding in my head – John brought blood samples from where he has access at Oxford to the medical stores, and it’s gone quiet.” A pause. “The thought of . . . anything to do with taking blood from others, it makes me unwell.”

“We’ll find something.” She resolved quietly. “We always do. I won’t let this overwhelm you, Nikola. You know that.”

“That’s what worries me.” He murmured. Her brows knitted together, she fished the key John had given her out of her pocket. With simple motions she released him, fingers trailing across his reddened wrists. There were so many questions to ask, so many things yet to understand – among them, how precisely to explain to her father the entire situation.

Nikola reached up to cup her cheek, thumb rubbing across her skin. She caught his hand with her bandaged one, looping her fingers around his. They sat in quiet for a long moment; her quiet Serbian, now a monster. How ill suited it seemed, and yet ---

“I still don’t understand how this happened.” Helen spoke, breaking the silence. Nikola was staring almost past her, lost in thought, and his gaze immediately snapped back to her.

“You mean why it didn’t turn the rest of you into vampires?”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“Little of your work does, Helen. To the untrained eye. But yours are very practiced. I am a most willing patient.”

The ghost of a smile flickered at the edges of her lips, and she leaned forward to kiss him briefly. Forehead pressed to his, she let out a breath she’d been holding as his arm came to wrap around her waist, holding her closer.

“As your doctor, I think it wise I stay with you.”

“Helen,” He began to protest. “if I do something ---.”

“I won’t let it happen.” She insisted, sitting up enough to draw her jacket away. She resettled against his side, a hand on his chest. “Tomorrow, we’ll find out the logistics, the hows and the whys. How to keep you from going hungry at the very top of the list. But as your doctor, you need rest. I can’t imagine this is very easy on your body.”

“You’re a very difficult woman to argue with, Dr. Magnus.”

“Then I think our marriage will suit you quite well, Mr. Tesla.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loved it? Hated it? Let me know!


	5. whatever it takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because nothing ever goes as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I wanted to get something out for you. I hope you enjoy.

 

The morning was clear, dawning with only a few stray clouds to speak of. The air was only slightly chilly; it was clear autumn had begun to settle into England, banishing away summer rains and what little warmth they had gleaned from the sun in the prior months. Even still, the Magnus household had never been busier; Gregory had been granted funding for his expedition, and Helen had finished her auditing of classes at Oxford in the spring, but her devotion had begun to the creatures that her father kept. Abnormals, he had termed them. There were few that lived in the vast basement Gregory had set up, but they would be Helen’s responsibility in his absence. She had been studying with a keen eye his journals, listening to his instructions, and had hardly left his side for the better part of the summer months. James and Nigel both had stepped in, fed by their own curiosity for some of the sessions, though James had seemed more preoccupied with his recent posting to Scotland Yard and a new homicide case. John’s presence was fleeting among them; he often skipped weekly Saturday evening dinners with them.

Nikola, too, had been researching his newfound heritage. After little trial and error, Helen had managed to cobble together something akin to blood for his hunger. The taste was not pleasant, she’d been informed and it still needed some refining, but Nikola’s control had been, well, controlled to the point where she no longer feared him in social gatherings.

Which, given that particular day, was a rather good blessing.

“You look radiant.”

Helen twisted, lips already curled in a warm smile as her father stepped through the door to her bedroom. Voices carried up from below until he shut the door behind him.

“It’s only a dress, father.”

She wore a dress of deep crimson, accented with silver trimmings. There had been no time (nor want, really) to send out measurements for a dress of white in the haste to plan. It was the dress she’d met Nikola in, and it seemed only fitting for it to be the dress she married him in. Her maid was just pinning the last orange blossom into place in her mane of curls before her father had stepped in, and now Helen swept forward to greet him with a fierce hug.

“Your mother would be stunned. Truly.” He murmured, pulling back to admire her fully. Helen turned faintly pink, fingers instantly reaching for her necklace; it had been a gift the day previous from Gregory, a necklace his wife and Helen’s mother had once owned. Small diamonds around a larger pendant of pearl.

“Are you ready?” He asked, bemused, and Helen glanced back at the mirror against the wall. She inhaled deeply for a moment, as if preparing to wage a battle, and nodded once.

“As I’ll ever be, I should think.”

She plucked up her bouquet of lilies from her bed, holding them tight in one hand as she wrapped her other around her father’s offered one. He patted her arm fondly, offering a brilliant grin before escorting her downstairs.

Despite the quick efforts to pull a wedding together, it had been tastefully done. The house was decorated in all sorts of flowers from their own gardens, ones that Helen had helped cut and bundle herself. There had been no need, she’d tried insisting, but her father had wanted her to have something of a properly put together wedding despite her lack of interest. She had agreed, only for him.

Their guests were not numerous, just close family of Helen’s who had known of her engagement. James and Nigel had come, though John had refused invitation a week prior, citing he was unwell. He had sent merely his best wishes and a gift, though Helen had yet to open it. One member of Nikola’s family had arrived and only by happenstance, as she’d been in Paris and able to travel on the short notice. The rest of his family had remained in Serbia, though Helen and Nikola both posted them letters with promises of more. Angelina, however, adored Helen and despite being not completely fluent in English, the pair had become fast friends in the few days his sister had stayed with them leading up to the wedding.

It was Angelina who greeted her at the bottom of the stairs, James smiling from beside her.

“You look angelic.” James murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. Angelina mirrored him, offering a radiant grin of her own.

“I’m so glad you could be here. Both of you.” Helen replied gently, clasping Angelina’s hand between her own. “Even if it is a bit of a rush.”

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t expect anything less, really.” James laughed, and offered his arm to Angelina once more. The pair led the way through the back of the house to the gardens, where their guests had gathered and beyond, where Nikola would be waiting with Nigel at his side.

Again, Helen took a deep breath. How surreal it seemed; marriage, at one point, had not been an ideal prospect. She certainly didn’t need a priest to tell her to spend her life with someone, or a ring to prove it. She hadn’t, in all honesty, been expecting Nikola to ever ask despite their close relationship. But, she supposed, it had been his own heritage, his human one, that had prompted it, his father being a proper Orthodox priest. Of course she wouldn’t say no, not to him, not to the one person who understood her better than she understood herself most days.

Her best friend, the one she’d spent ages with because no one else at Oxford would even speak with her. Even when James and eventually John and Nigel had joined them, it was Nikola she spent her time with. Nikola whom she loved.

Nikola, who she would spend eternity with.

Oh, the discussion of their differing mortalities had happened some weeks prior after Helen had an outburst at him. He would live forever, and she would waste away in time. It hadn’t mattered to him, but it had to her. How selfish she had felt, and how cruel it would be to watch him not age a day while she grew old and grey beside him. He’d threatened to research how to turn himself back human or how to turn her into a creature like him, though Helen had outright refused either of those options.

Fate, however, had deemed them worth something. In her private research she had been still studying the effects of the source blood on each of them. And in her research, her own blood samples had simply stopped decaying. She’d stopped aging.

She could be killed, certainly. Or time would take her in the end, but not for decades at the rate the samples had been. It gave her hope, perhaps, that she and Nikola would have many years together. Watching the world change around them, grow and prosper, and she could continue to dedicate her life to purpose and knowledge. Him, too. But she thought of James and Nigel and John and her father and the others, who would no doubt die well before either of them.

For now, however, she tried not to dwell upon it. There were far happier things to encompass her mind.

Even if she never fancied herself earning the title of wife, there was a small pleasure she found in the thought of it when matched with Nikola. Things felt right with the universe.

The universe, however, seemed to protest.

Before she could take more than a step with her father there was a shrill noise. A metallic scraping sound as if two plates of steel were grinding against each other, and Helen winced at the loudness. Her father’s face screwed up in mild confusion, and the soft murmuring of voices from the gardens ceased. A low rumble seemed to shake the entire house, and Helen reached out to brace herself against the wall. Certainly not and _earthquake_ , for heaven’s sake – she had seldom opened her mouth before the door to the basement flung itself wide, and she found herself staring straight into a mirror.

Or, at least what appeared to be --- because for all intent and purposes, Helen Magnus stood at the entrance to the basement in the very same dress, looking back at her with the very same startled look, though slightly more disheveled.

“What in the seven hells?” Gregory swore quietly, and both of the Helens snapped their gazes briefly to him.

“That infuriating creature!” The Basement-Helen snapped. “The shapeshifter, it escaped from its cage and tried to shut me away down there!”

“Oh, what utter nonsense!”

“It’s truth!”

“Not in the slightest!”

“Helen,” Gregory began, glancing at both of them with a paled expression. Both snapped around to look at him, before there was a soft clearing of a throat in the doorway.

Nikola stared with the expression of a man who had walked straight into the jaws of the devil himself.

“Nikola!”

“Nikola!”

“I came to see what the issue was --- and now I see.” Nikola spoke, slightly dumbfounded with the situation as he glanced between the two version of Helen, gaze eventually landing on Gregory. “As _exciting_ as it would be ----.”

“Don’t.” Gregory warned, holding up a hand sharply. “The shapeshifter’s escaped. Clearly.”

“It’s her!” Two echoes of Helen’s voice chimed, the two staring daggers across the hall at one another. Nikola’s expression varied, while Gregory seemed to be internally debating the best course of action.

“How are we meant to tell them apart?” Nikola inquired, eying the doubles as if there were any sort of minor difference he could ascertain. None, of course, immediately presented themselves.

“With difficulty. The creatures – they trick you into seeing what they want you to believe. It’s rather uncanny, their abilities. Albeit terribly frustrating in situations like these.” Gregory murmured. “Not that situations such as these crop up often.”

“Can we take their blood? See which one has evidence of the source blood?”

“The creature could simply mislead us with the samples.”

“Are you honestly going to take this monster for it’s word?” Basement-Helen chimed sharply, glaring at her counterpart with every fibre of her being.

“Yes, really, someone should put you back in your cage!” Other-Helen snapped back. Gregory scowled faintly at the pair, as if preparing to put himself between them to keep them from ripping into one another. He looked to Nikola.

“You know Helen as best, if not more than I do. Can’t you tell?”

“They’re identical.” Nikola’s brows furrowed, hands smoothing invisible wrinkles from his waistcoat. Nothing was ever easy with Helen Magnus involved, it seemed. He tilted his head at the twin versions of his beloved, studying them, almost fascinated by the infuriating accuracy at how they matched perfectly. He shut his eyes, focusing quietly in the room to pick up the different heartbeats – he set aside the slower rhythm of Gregory’s. How useful vampiric abilities were, in a pinch. Not that he had discovered very many uses for them yet other than steering him very clear of any future vegetarian diets.

But Helen’s heartbeat, to him, had always been easy to pick out of a room. Unfortunately, the shapeshifter seemed to be able to mimic it in just the right way, the pair of Helen’s matching beat for beat despite his efforts. Fine, her thought. Perhaps another sense.

Stepping closer brought with it the heady scent of soft perfume (his favorite, in truth) and he struggled to separate it from Helen’s personal scent. Wedged between the feuding twins, he sought out the scent of the source blood – from that, the creature could not replicate. It could alter what they thought they were seeing, but it would have no way to mimic the specific scent he knew Helen to have due to their meddling, not in a way that would be _right_. Perhaps it was fruitful to have such honed senses, after all. He still needed more practice, of course, but he could pluck the scent quiet easily from beneath the scent of perfume.

His eyelids snapped open, his gaze immediately going to Basement-Helen.

“How very clever.” He moved almost _too_ quickly, but fast enough to catch Other-Helen as she launched toward the other one, screeching. Basement-Helen dodged, and Nikola used the momentum of the creature to propel it forward, through the open doorway. Gregory snapped it shut immediately, twisting the lock in place firmly with a key in his hand.

The real Helen, his Helen, looked positively livid until Nikola’s gentle hand found her own.

“As if anything could compare to the real thing.” He mused, lifting her fingers to his to brush a kiss against her knuckles. She was breathing hard, gaze darting from the basement door to Nikola and back again.

“I was worried.” Her brows knitted together. “I thought ---.”

“That I would marry an imposter? You wound me, dear.”

“Well, the thing was clever with the locks and with it’s abilities I feared it might cause a bit of a panic should I have crashed my very own wedding.” She sniffed, watching as Gregory emerged from the basement and shut the door, firmly locking it again.

“Knocked it out, you did.” He muttered toward Nikola. “I’ve put it under a more secure locking mechanism. I’ll look into it more this evening, perhaps.”

Oh, right. Wedding.

“You look marvelous, by the way.” Nikola held her at arm’s length, admiring her fondly. Helen smiled faintly, smoothing down an errant curl of hair.

“I look a mess after being down there. And it’s bad luck for you to see me before we’ve married.”

“Is there a superstition about seeing double before we’ve married? And I thought Serbian customs were strange.”

“Nikola, _really_.”

“If you two are finished,” Gregory interrupted swiftly, offering out his arm for his daughter once more. “there’s a schedule to follow and guests waiting.”

“Right.” Nikola tugged at the bottom of his cravat, straightening it into perfection. “Wish me luck.”

“ _Nikola_.”

“I’ll see you on the other side then, shall I, _wife_?”

“You’re impossible, you know.” She made a shooing motion with the flowers in her hand, tucking her arm around her father’s.

“As you command, Mrs. Impossible.”

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? Let me know!


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